


Reprieve (Rest for the Wicked)

by 2nd2ndalto



Series: Reprieve [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s02e11 Fear Her, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2nd2ndalto/pseuds/2nd2ndalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a happy bit of fluff (okay, smuff) I imagine happened after Fear Her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reprieve (Rest for the Wicked)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 31-March-2010. One of my first fics.

It's almost unheard of for them, sticking around after the planet's been saved, but Trish graciously invites the travelers to stay the night and they feel obliged to accept. It's also easier than explaining that their home essentially travels with them.

Rose and the Doctor spend an enjoyable evening at the street party and then retire to Trish's lounge to watch the beginning of the games. It's made for an almost giddy atmosphere - Olympics underway, mystery solved, children returned home and the Isolus returned to its family.

Chloe proves to be a very pleasant child when not possessed by alien beings, and she, Trish, Rose and the Doctor finish the evening with board games and hot chocolate. After initially being so timid and standoffish, Trish is effusively grateful and surprisingly talkative. It's well after midnight when the Doctor and Rose are finally ready to retire to Trish's spare room.

Rose heads upstairs first, the Doctor slipping out of the house to ensure the TARDIS is securely parked before settling in for the night. Walking back down the street to Trish's house, he can't seem to keep the smile from his face, the spring from his step. He's a sucker for happy endings, and today has been a case in point. Add that to the knowledge that he's minutes away from climbing into bed with Rose and it's no wonder he's feeling so buoyant.

He lets himself back into the darkened house, quietly locking the door behind him and taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Trish hadn't asked whether he and Rose are in the habit of sharing a room, and neither thought it worth mentioning.

Truth be told, they have shared a bed more often than not in the last few weeks. It's just sleeping - mostly just sleeping. Well, sleeping and a bit of a snog, but that's still quite new, too.

After their trip to the sanctuary base, each is clinging to the other a little more tightly and both have been more reluctant to be separated. Rose hasn't wanted to be alone at night, and the Doctor has had this unnerving feeling... it's not based on anything tangible - just the need to fill as many of his hours with Rose as possible. So, Rose sleeps and they hold each other, the Doctor fighting to shake the dread that his days with Rose are numbered.

Tonight he's feeling lighter, though. Everything worked out in that magical way it does on the best days. Everybody lived today, and Rose... she was brilliant. Brave and clever. Amazing. She saved him yet again, saved everyone, and he's just feeling proud to bursting. It's a heady feeling, all things considered.

The Doctor opens the door to the room they'll share tonight to find Rose grinning at him from where she's sitting in bed. It's an infectious grin, and he's returning it as he closes the door behind him. "Hello," he greets her.

"Took you long enough," she teases, tongue poking between her teeth.

He raises one eyebrow at her and she giggles. The Doctor divests himself of his coat and suit jacket, draping them over the back of a chair. His stomach gives a pleasant lurch as he notes Rose's jeans in a pile on the floor with her jacket. After a moment's consideration he takes off his trousers as well. It's all for the sake of comfort, after all.

"C'mon, then," Rose smiles shyly, pats the spot on the bed next to her, and it's an invitation he wouldn't think to refuse. She pulls the duvet up over them both as he switches off the bedside light. They lie on their sides, curled towards each other in the tiny bed.

It's not that much different than their recent sleeping arrangements on the TARDIS, and Rose's attire isn't that much different than what she usually wears to bed, but for some reason tonight the Doctor's imagination is running off enthusiastically in all sorts of lovely directions. He can't stop thinking about bare knees bumping up against his under the sheets. Can't stop noticing Rose's sweet warm breath ghosting against his cheek when she exhales. Can't stop imagining long bare legs tangled with his.

"Good day," he remarks softly, nudging her shoulder a little. Rose shoves back, grinning. "It was," she agrees.

"Aliens sorted, Rose Tyler saves the world. Well done, Lewis." He nudges her again, rocking his body playfully towards her.

"Hush," Rose laughs. She shifts and catches his lips with hers, and for once he's very happy to shut up.

Their kisses are soft and slow, savouring, lips brushing and pressing gently as their bodies shift for a better angle. Rose's free hand moves to grip his shoulder, his to stroke at her waist. This room is so still, so quiet. At the same time that he misses the TARDIS' hum, the Doctor savours the sound of their mouths moving together in this silence. Every wet little noise, every sighing exhale, every whispering shift of their bodies beneath the sheets. He swears he can hear the steady beat of Rose's single heart, can almost feel it in his own chest.

At the first tentative touch of Rose's tongue against his lips the Doctor responds in kind, opening his mouth against hers for a leisurely exploration, sharing heat and breath. Rose sighs and melts against him, her hand tangling in his hair, his slipping to rest on her hip. She exhales hard when he sucks delicately at her lower lip, and the Doctor feels a shot of heat rush through him when her nails scratch lightly against his scalp.

They are lying belly to belly now, bodies gently rocking against each other. The Doctor gasps into Rose's mouth as she pushes her thigh between his, his growing erection pressed hard against her hip bone. She hums happily in reply. After a long moment, she pulls back to press emphatic little kisses to his cheeks, his chin, his nose, and then they're just holding each other close, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard and giggling in whispers at the dizziness of it all.

The Doctor can't stop himself from pressing another light kiss to Rose's smiling lips, to the tip of her nose. She nips at his chin in retaliation, an impish look in her eye, and he feels as if his chest might burst with happiness. He's drunk on her, tonight.

"Rose," he manages.

"Yeah?"

"I want to... That is, do you... I would love to... Would you... I... I want - "

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yeah."

"Really? Here? You..."

"Yeah. Yes."

And she's giggling softly again, giggling against his neck when he pulls her close, and it's the best sound in the universe, and he's heard a lot of sound.

And it's ridiculous, really it is, because he couldn't have decided to ask, couldn't have decided to make his move on one of the 99% of nights that they spend in the TARDIS, could he? He had to wait until they were tangled up together in this tiny bed in this silent house, and they're going to have to do this very quietly, which is such a shame, because even now, he feels that this might be a problem, the quiet. He's already bursting to shout out to the universe that Rose has said yes to him. Yes.

"Hope the bed doesn't creak," she whispers against his neck, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

He laughs as quietly as he can, runs his fingers up and down her spine, giddy and exhilarated just at the thought of her, of this, of them.

"I'll try not to scream your name," he returns, nipping at her earlobe.

"If you do, we might have to leave in a hurry." Rose gently tickles his ribs.

"I can't make any guarantees."

Then there's more kissing, not as gentle this time. It's harder, faster, and the wet sounds of their mouths and heavier sounds of their breath are accompanied by the rustle of clothes being shed, the shifting sounds of sheets and blankets as they struggle to cling to each other while disposing of shirts and pants, each trying not to roll the other off of this narrow bed.

There are soft gasps and sighs as their hands explore newly exposed skin, and the Doctor feels his hearts speed as he pulls Rose's bare, warm body against his. The heat of her is fantastic. She reaches down between them to stroke his straining erection and he bucks helplessly into her hand, presses his mouth against her shoulder to keep from crying out. He's so lost in her he's not sure which end is up, and when he gropes blindly, trying to reciprocate, he nearly tumbles them both onto the floor.

They laugh breathlessly against each other as they right themselves, and then there's more shifting, more rearranging, and the Doctor is mostly on top of her, her hands roaming down his back and over his bum as she teases his neck with teeth and lips. He pushes against Rose's thigh, a thrill running through him as she grinds back. His hand cups a soft breast, thumb stroking back and forth over the tight little bud. Rose gasps and her eyes fall shut, biting her lip as his mouth moves to replace his fingers and his teeth find her nipple, tug gently.

The Doctor is sure there should be more steps to this, thinks they might be forgetting something, but most of his very impressive brain seems to have shut down, feels like it finished shutting down when Rose wrapped her legs around his waist, hauling him close against her.

Now she's panting, whispering and begging in his ear, and he can feel how ready she is, how slick she is sliding against him, and he can't wait any longer, suddenly feels like he's been waiting years, through at least two bodies for this. He reaches down and it's only a small adjustment to be inside her, only a small movement for something so momentous.

And, oh. She's so hot inside, so wet, and they gasp together, pause together as they both adjust to this feeling, as they lock eyes in the near-dark. Rose is breathing hard and he can feel every delectable rise and fall of her chest against his.

"Okay?" he breathes.

She nods, seems beyond words, eyes wide.

Then they're moving together, and it's so good, so right. The Doctor relishes their soft noises in the dark, wants to always remember them, the wet sounds of them sliding together, the quick sounds of their breath.

She's so beautiful moving under him, lips pressed together to hold back moans and cries he'd love to hear, hopes he'll hear next time. Rose's fingernails dig into his back as she clutches him closer, her breath coming faster, and he thrusts deeper, loses all sense of anything but them.

It's not long, this first time, before they're falling over the edge together, and the Doctor is trying hard to remember to stay quiet, thinks Rose must be, too. She comes a moment before him, her face turned into the pillow. When he finishes seconds later, it's with her hand over his mouth, with her grinning breathlessly up at him.

The Doctor collapses against her, damp and spent, both of them breathing hard. Rose nuzzles against him, pressing little kisses anywhere she can reach, and oh, it's ridiculously fantastic. He's lost for coherent speech, his vocabulary reduced to superlatives.

He flops back to lie next to her eventually, reluctantly, worried he'll crush her under his weight. She's beaming, and he's pretty sure that's an accurate reflection of his own expression. They gaze at each other in the near-dark, just grinning like idiots.

"That was..." the Doctor begins, searches for a word that works. There isn't one.

"Even better than I'd imagined," Rose suggests shyly, biting her lip.

The Doctor's eyes widen. "Oh."

She looks a bit embarrassed. "What, you never - " she begins.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I did. Imagine, that is," he assures her, nodding fervently.

Rose breathes a laugh, snuggles up against him, head on his chest, one leg draped over his, hand between his hearts. And, oh, this is lovely: naked cuddling - why have they never done this before? It's soft and warm with just the right amount of sweaty - the Doctor thinks he could spend quite a long time doing this.

"So," Rose murmurs eventually, "where are we going tomorrow?"

He shifts, lifts his head so he can look her in the eye. "Going?" He raises an eyebrow at her. "We're not going anywhere, missy. In fact, I don't ever plan to let you out of the TARDIS again." He waggles his eyebrows at her and she giggles softly.

"Fine by me."

"Besides," the Doctor whispers eventually, "I'm very interested to know exactly what you've been imagining. Everything." He draws out the last word, squeezing her closer, her laugh a puff of air across his chest.

"Everything?"

"Oh, yes." There's a pause. "Not embarrassed, are you?" He teases gently.

"No," Rose hedges, lifts her head to look at him gravely, "it's just... everything I've been imagining? That might take a while."

He grins, pulls her tight against him again. "Rose Tyler. What am I going to do with you?"

"I can't wait to find out."

There's a longer silence this time, and the Doctor can feel Rose's single heart settle into a slow, steady rhythm where her sweet, warm body is pressed to his. This is bliss, and he's not going to sleep tonight, just wants to spend the remainder of these dark, quiet hours drinking it all in. Because no matter what happens tomorrow, or next week, he thinks tonight will keep him going for a very, very long time.


End file.
